Zodwa Ndlovu has left her bride-to-be at the altar. But this is
no ordinary case of a jilted lover. As Charlotte Browning attempts
to entertain the restless wedding guests at the Rainbow Community
Church in Cape Town, South Africa until her betrothed arrives, we
suspect that Zodwa is in fact lying murdered in a dustbin down a
dark ashen alleyway.
As the story unfolds, we learn that it is not an arbitrary mugging
with a violent end, but a deliberate case of corrective gang rape
and murder. Zodwa, you see is a black lesbian in modern day South
Africa, about to marry the British-born Charlotte, who originally
flew out to teach cricket. A devastatingly horrific outcome for a
wedding, and an equally grim premise for an evening at the theatre,
you might agree. Yet, this stunning theatre/dance collaboration
between Mojisola Adebayo and Mamela Nyamza is humorous, moving,
sexy, uplifting, political, postcolonial, and ultimately life
affirming.
As Charlotte tells her story to us on stage, Zodwa's parallel
narrative is told largely through dance. Zodwa uses her physicality
to convey emotion in the most effective and visceral of ways.
However, she also uses her body as a political site, as she
explores the performance and construction of white female beauty,
or conveys a narrative, as in the case of her relationship with
Charlotte.
The performance is astonishingly moving as the lovers attempt to
reach each other across the mortal divide - Zodwa in a realm
beyond, while Charlotte is still in Cape Town, grieving. As they
dance across the stage, not quite touching - the sensuality
tangible, the desire gripping, and the tragedy unbearable - I'm
aware that this simultaneously exhilarating and heartbreaking scene
is one of the most powerful I have ever seen on stage.
The production builds from laughter and worry, lightness and
emotion, gradually up to a climax where we finally confront the
demon - the grotesque story of what is termed corrective rape -
from where the show gets its title: "I Stand Corrected". This is
done intelligently, powerfully and theatrically. More importantly,
it does not shy away from the racial and cultural politics of the
atrocity; Charlotte is unconditionally damning of it, yet in
delving into the colonial history of South Africa, unafraid to
shoulder a level of culpability as homophobia is to a great extent,
a product of colonialism.
At times the political pontificating feels a little preachy and
steps out of the realm of theatrical; the play might have done
better to just trust the power of a moving dramatic story to
deliver the message itself. Yet, the blame for homophobia in Africa
so often falls on misconceived cultural stereotypes, it is
understandable that Adebayo and Nyamza are determined to drill home
the postcolonial perspective of this play.
While the play is lyrically powerful, even more stunning is its
physicality - every movement, every bend of the arm, every clench
of the stomach, every twitch of face, flick of head, or flash of
teeth serves to deliver a deep-felt visceral emotion. And this
grows so magnificently, that by the end of the play, I had the
swelling urge to reach into my chest, rip out my heart and throw it
on stage. After all, there are very few plays that receive an
almost unanimous standing ovation on a press night. It goes without
saying that I Stand Corrected was my favourite production of the
year.
I Stand Corrected plays at London's Ovalhouse
until 8 December. For tickets visit: ovalhouse.com
